Pippa POV- smut
On our day off, Steve and I like to spend time outside. It can be hard as an actor in the city to get fresh air, but we try.
I wake up on Monday morning to find Steve already awake. I can hear him in the kitchen, and I smell coffee. I get up slowly and pull on my robe. I go to the mirror and see a mark on my neck. I remember when he made it. I shake my head to clear the memories away and go downstairs.
Steve is standing bent over the counter, elbows resting on the surface. He holds a cup of coffee and hands me one as he kisses my forehead. I rise on my toes and kiss his cheek before I take my cup and sit down at our little table. The coffee is perfect. Exactly how I like it. He knows me so well. He joins me after a minute and brushes my hair behind my ear.
"How did you sleep, baby?" he asks softly. His voice is deep and raspy like it always is in the mornings. And it always makes my knees weak. I'm glad I'm sitting down.
"Fine," I answer. My voice, however, shakes. Although my knees were spared the effort of supporting my body, my voice betrays me and shows Steven exactly what his voice does to me.
"Just 'fine'?" he smirks at me. "Did I not tire you out enough last night?"
Fuck. He pulled that card.
"I slept well, I guess."
"Oh, good," he says, sitting back in his chair. He's comfortable, teasing me like this. He knows exactly what he's doing, and I hate it. Or love it. I can't decide.
We finish our coffee in silence, comfortable for him, tense for me, and decide to head to the balcony for some sun. He lays on the hammock and motions for me to join him. I cuddle into him and lay my head on his shoulder. He pulls his phone out and takes a picture, then puts it down on the table beside us. He pulls me close to him and kisses my head again.
"You're so cute this morning, baby," he murmurs into my hair.
Ugh, I can't deal. I giggle into his chest and feel him smile. He pulls away a bit, enough to look at me. God, those eyes. They're beautiful. Just like the rest of him. Ugh, it's not fair.
Then, he puts one finger under my chin and tilts my face up toward his. My breath hitches, and he smiles. He waits for me to take a good breath, and then he kisses me. Soft and gentle. Teasing. Tiny kisses on the corners of my mouth, my lower lip.
When I melt into his embrace and sigh against his mouth, he pulls me closer for a proper kiss. His lips fit perfectly into mine, and I feel his stubble on my face. When he pulls away again, it's to kiss my jaw and then trace a path down my neck with his lips. One hand holds me close to him while the other goes to my hair, taking it out of the loose ponytail I threw it into when I woke up.
I press into him and hold his face with my hands, stroking his cheeks with my thumbs. He's warm and his lips are soft even as he deepens our kiss. When I feel his tongue touch my lip, I don't hesitate in opening my mouth. Let's be honest. He could do anything he wanted with me and I would let him. A French kiss isn't even the tip of the iceberg.
God, I want him. I mean, I know I have him, there's no doubt about that but I still just... want him. No. I need him.
He seems to read my thoughts because he breaks the kiss, looks at me (oh, god, that look), and touches his forehead to mine, hand in my hair.
"Do you wanna go back inside, baby?" he asks with that low voice.
I think about it. Actually, I don't. I only pretend to for about 2.6 seconds.
"No. I wanna stay out here, Daddy," I say confidently.
At the word "Daddy", his eyebrows rise slightly. His pupils dilate and I can feel his heart pounding against my chest. I decide to take my opportunity now. I put one hand on his chest, the other on the back of his neck, and roll myself over on top of him. The hammock swings a little but at this point, I don't care. I'm blind to everything but him.
